Starlight Warrior
by LuteofLorien
Summary: The former ringbearers arrive in Valinor and a much-anticipated reunion takes place. Elrond and Galadriel have officially done their waiting. Five hundred and twelve years of it! IN MIDDLE EARTH! And they're not going to let something trivial like a little bit of sea get in their way...


_There was a certain holiday just before International Fanworks Day so I wrote some schmoop. Hope you like!_

_It's absolutely a stand-alone, but_ _my headcanons about __Celebrían and Elrond also link this to My Dearest Cel and Faith Enough For Two._

_Also, no matter how excited you are to see someone, please do not try this at home! (That will make more sense when you read the fic)_

_Thanks as always to Ink Stained Quill for making my mess of fluffy feelings somewhat more writerly!_

**Disclaimer: Amazingly enough, Middle Earth, Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel? They're not mine. Crazy, I know.**

Starlight Warrior

"It will be at least another two hours before we even come close to mooring," Gandalf remarked, coming up to where Elrond's lone figure was silhouetted at the prow of their ship as it sailed smoothly towards the shadowy outline of the Valinorean shore.

"I know," Elrond replied simply. There was silence for a few moments as the gorgeous orange and dusky pink of the dawn reflected off the waves, bathing their faces in light.

"You aren't going to get me to move," Elrond cautioned.

"I know," Gandalf replied airily, as if he'd been expecting that statement. Elrond glanced at him curiously a few times but Gandalf did not explain himself, and from the twinkle in his eye he was probably enjoying being mysterious. Eventually Elrond gave in.

"What are you doing, then?"

Gandalf chuckled and settled himself comfortably with his elbows on the railing and his unlit pipe in the corner of his mouth.

"Staying," he answered, and looked back at the sea. Elrond hmphed quietly at the laconic answer but his lips turned up in the tiniest fraction of a smile.

* * *

Gandalf did stay, and most of the time he simply stared contemplatively at their ever-approaching destination, his face and his ponderings inscrutable. He didn't ever broach the subject which he knew Elrond was fretting over, didn't try to reassure him or reason out the ineffectiveness of worrying or tell him he understood. Everything that could be said had already been said, so Gandalf was content to stand beside Elrond while he worried himself through his waiting. Occasionally though, when Elrond's knuckles would whiten against the railing or his jaw would visibly clench, Gandalf would suddenly start tapping his pipe against the railing, apparently absent-mindedly, or stand up straight to stretch his back with much huffing, or break into a realistic-sounding coughing fit. This would startle Elrond out of whatever dark place his thoughts had strayed to, his eyes would flicker to Gandalf for a moment and when he returned to his musings he seemed marginally more relaxed. The second time Gandalf tried a coughing fit, Elrond raised his eyebrow at him.

"You are aware, Mithrandir, that you're not actually an old man?"

Gandalf assumed a wounded expression. "Goodness, the impertinence of young elves these days!"

This actually drew a real smile from Elrond, albeit a small one. "I may never have grown out of impertinence, but I have not been called young for many _yéni_."

"Dear me! Then I must have been remiss. Because you certainly are compared to me, my lad."

This surprised Elrond into a laugh. "I thought you saved that appellation for your hobbit friends?"

"Hmmmm," Gandalf made a show of considering it, "and occasionally elves I happen to be fond of."

"Then I am proud to count among the latter."

"Well then, show a bit of respect for your elders and help an old man to straighten up. Sea air gets to these joints something wicked."

Elrond raised a sceptical eyebrow at that, but he slid an arm around Gandalf's shoulders and eased him up to stand straight. When Gandalf's surprisingly strong hand grasped Elrond's before it could leave his shoulder and then, somehow, Elrond was leaning against Gandalf rather than the other way around, neither of them mentioned it.

Both of them knew exactly what Gandalf was doing. His origins and his age were a sacred mystery and he held untold power within the frame of a crotchety old man. But today, he was bringing out his trusty old grandfather side, helping Elrond to release the burden of his considerable years and responsibilities by playing up how much he felt his own.

Not long after that the deck began to fill up in earnest with passengers as land drew near and bright morning sun made the far-off crystal beaches shine in all their brilliant glory. For some reason, this sight made Elrond swallow heavily and look away. Before Gandalf could decide whether to ask about this or not, the decision was made for him by the arrival of Frodo and Bilbo. The latter was exclaiming delightedly,

"Why, this is marvellous, Frodo-lad! Not bad for an old adventurer's last hurrah, eh? Just look at those beaches, gleaming like a dragon's hoard, I tell you."

"I'll take your word for it, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo laughed as they came over to the wizard and the former Master of Imladris and exchanged greetings. Elrond inquired solicitously after Bilbo's health, and got a very enthusiastic response.

"Oh, it just gets better! Still feeling more and more chipper every day, today most of all! Like I'm aging backwards, almost. Must be something to do with this glorious sea air!"

Both hobbits were a little confused about why Gandalf assumed a 'well-don't-look-at-me' expression at those words and Elrond looked at him with something like fond exasperation. However, Elrond replied before the hobbit eagerness for gossip could assert itself.

"That's wonderful to hear, Bilbo, my friend, and long may it continue. Would you like to see the view from the railing?"

"Oh, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I mean, we'll see it when we disembark of course but…"

Elrond saved him the trouble of further hinting by picking him up with infinite gentleness and settling him carefully to sit on the railing, keeping him cradled in his arms to ensure his safety. Meanwhile, Gandalf simply settled Frodo on his hip, an arrangement which both of them seemed more than happy with.

"There's so much light," Frodo breathed, in awe.

"Yes, Frodo, the light of the Two Trees lingers here. It is a healing light, if you are open to it."

"Will I be, do you think?" Frodo asked quietly, and Elrond and Bilbo were discreet enough to pretend not to hear.

"That is your decision to make, Frodo, but I have every confidence that you will choose well, and you will be happy for it."

Frodo nodded and settled his head on Gandalf's shoulder, wide-eyed as if to soak up as much of that wonderful light as possible.

"Those peepers of yours can see a lot more than mine, I'd wager, Elrond," Bilbo commented cheerfully. "So if you'd be so kind…"

Elrond scrutinised the land mass in detail for the first time.

"Can you see where Alqualondë is?"

"I've got a little blob, aye."

"The skyline is marvellous. Fantastic geometric shapes that you'd never dream of putting together but make wonderful artistry nonetheless. I can't see the jewels in detail yet, but the light seems to play around it, like it's being reflected back on itself. The land around it is hilly and full of vegetation: lots of heather I would say from the colour but perhaps it's a plant that only grows here. There's the pier, made of a lovely light wood, and the harbour, a gentle curve of shimmering beaches. There's a crowd. I can't make out individual figures yet but there are people waiting for us."

"Ah," Bilbo said, and squeezed Elrond's hand where it rested around his middle. "Then perhaps it's best for me to get out from under your feet before they come into view. Oh, and that's perfect timing. You've got company."

Elrond followed Bilbo's gaze to where Galadriel was gliding over to their little group, nodded formally to her, then helped Bilbo down from his vantage point. Before Elrond straightened up, however, Bilbo put a wrinkled hand on the elf's shoulder and said seriously,

"I hope you find her well."

Trust a hobbit to take the most mundane of pleasantries and make it mean so much.

He gave Elrond's shoulder a little pat and let him straighten up, knowing his former host well enough not to make a fuss when there was a little waver in his murmured "thank you" in reply. Instead, he turned to Gandalf and Frodo and said,

"Come on then, you pair of miscreants, let's find another spot and give these two a moment, shall we?"

"Miscreant? Me? You wound me, old friend," Gandalf said, assuming an air of wide-eyed innocence which made Frodo laugh.

"Well, what do you expect? Running off on adventures without me, indeed," Bilbo began to grumble jokingly as he towed the wizard and his hobbit passenger away. Before he left with the hobbits, Gandalf turned and made eye contact with Elrond, projecting a thought clearly over their mental bond.

_Take heart, son of Ëarendil. Your long road is leading you home._

And then he was gone. Galadriel was before him, and the weight of the approaching reunion could be avoided no longer.

* * *

Galadriel reached out a slender hand and cupped Elrond's cheek, turning it towards her.

"You shield your thoughts from me, my son," she said, her expression troubled. "Why do you do so?"

"We each have our own burdens to bear this day," Elrond replied, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. "I would not have you bearing mine in addition to your own."

Galadriel shook her head. "It is more. Our love and our pain are centred around the same person and we have healed and strengthened each other in the sharing of it. You have never denied me that before. Do not evade me where my daughter is concerned."

There was a just a shard of flint in her voice, a tiny hint of the elleth who almost took the Ring, and Elrond knew her well enough to capitulate gracefully.

"I dreamed yesterday evening," he informed her gravely. "My Sight is clouded and I cannot determine whether it was a true vision or simply my own wishful fantasies. I did not wish to give you false hope, if false it is."

"If that is the case, then I would see the vision. We shall hope together and if it is an illusion, together we will be deceived."

"My lady, I would spare you," Elrond protested.

Galadriel soften around the edges somehow, becoming less the elleth who walked out of a legend and more a grieving mother, as some of the true sorrow hidden beneath her serene exterior was allowed to show in her eyes.

"I would not," she said softly.

And Elrond could not argue with that.

He met her gaze and let the intense combination of memory and vision he had been holding back flood into his mind.

* * *

_Elrond, for one of the first times in his life, was tongue-tied. There were several more to come, and most of them involved Celebrían. He had carefully planned what he was going to say as he presented the gift he had painstakingly crafted for the elleth he was courting. The War of the Last Alliance was over, and Elrond wanted to show his appreciation to the elleth whose love had supported him through the darkest times. He had spent hours with the smiths of Imladris learning to work mithril, and with their help he had created a mithril star with a moonstone at its centre, set in a circlet of intertwined silver and gold. He had rehearsed the moment of giving it to her many times in his head. He wanted to tell her that she was his starlight in the black despair of Mordor, he may have fought the orcs but she was the warrior who fought the demons he carried back with him._

_But now, as Celebrían stood before him, the glory of her flowing silver hair outshining all the waterfalls of Imladris in Elrond's opinion, the intricately crafted speech had planned slipped away from him completely. "I-I hope you will accept this token of my affection," he began breathily, the voice that had commanded Gil-galad's armies for once refusing to support itself. "I want you to know that through all the darkness of the last years you were- you are- brighter than this star to me. You have been my starlight…warrior."_

_His eyes dropped to the ground and he blushed furiously. What he had wanted to say was far less complicated than most of the speeches he had given in his time, so why was it that he couldn't deliver it when it counted? He had something beautiful and poetic in his mind, and what had come out of his mouth was nonsense._

_But then Celebrían lifted his chin and she didn't look disappointed or scornful. Instead, she looked delighted._

"_Your starlight warrior?" She said thoughtfully. "I like that. I enjoyed being your starlight warrior more than I can say. Do you think I could perhaps…carry on?"_

"_For as long as you wish," Elrond gasped, marvelling at how she had turned his mistake into something beautiful. Celebrían had a habit of doing that._

_The mischief Elrond so loved sparkled in Celebrían's eyes, and she kneeled, heedless of the grass stains on her gown._

"_Then knight me your starlight warrior, my liege, and I will fight the darkness alongside you as long as you will have me."_

"_What if that's forever?" Elrond blurted out, going even more crimson than he already was. Sweet Elbereth, he sounded like a lovesick eighty-year old just out of elflinghood but somehow around Celebrían he just couldn't stop himself._

_Celebrian beamed up at him, drinking in the shy awkwardness he reserved only for her._

"_Then so much the better," she whispered._

"_My starlight warrior," Elrond breathed as he placed the circlet on her brow with trembling hands, wondering how on earth the words that came out of something going wrong could suddenly feel so right._

* * *

"_I can't wear this," Celebrían declared, holding the circlet in her skeletal hands. Elrond had healed her, spent hour after hour encouraging her to eat and recover from her malnourishment, but it seemed that her body was determined to remain waif-like, barely there, as if to display outwardly the effect that the orcs had had on her mind. She and Elrond were packing her things to be taken to Valinor and she had come across the circlet, left unworn for long months since that fateful trip to Lothlórien. Her words hurt more than any battle wound Elrond had ever taken, and he took a moment to breathe through it like he would a physical wound. He had to hold back his rage and grief, had to be calm for Celebrían, had to deal with his own pain so he could be Celebrían's guiding star now._

"_Why do you feel that way, my love? It was always your favourite."_

_It had been. In the years since the giving of that gift she had acquired many more circlets, more intricate and more expensive and more well-crafted ones, but she loved that one shaped by Elrond's own hands with a passion and wore it whenever she could. Whenever anyone mentioned it, she simply said, "it reminds me who I am." That made her rejection of it all the more painful now. Something of her old fire came into her tone as she replied, but it was twisted inward into a bitterness Elrond loathed to hear in his beloved's voice._

"_I can't be your starlight warrior any more, Elrond. How could I even think of fighting your demons when I am losing so badly to my own?"_

_Elrond knelt in front of where she sat on their bed, took one of those gaunt hands in his and rested his forehead against it so that Celebrían couldn't see the pain in his expression at these words. There was so much inherently wrong with that statement that Elrond wanted to shout out the truth until she could hear it, but he got himself under control enough to speak calmly._

"_You are not losing. You are brilliant and brave and you are fighting, and that's what going to Valinor is, finding you some better ground to help you fight. And I am so sorry if I ever made you feel when I used that phrase that it was about what you do for me. I never saw it that way. You being my starlight warrior, it's not about what you do, it's about who you are. You inspire me, you protect me from the darker parts of myself, simply by being Celebrían. You are still my starlight warrior, my Cel, and you always will be."_

"_But even then, if it's simply about being myself, I'm not any more. Myself, that is. I'm lost, I'm no longer the elleth you fell in love with and I don't know how to feel like your Cel again."_

_Despite all the tears of the previous months, Celebrían still had some left to accompany that declaration._

"_But that doesn't change the fact that you are," Elrond insisted fervently, pressing a kiss to the hand he was holding. "I can still see the elleth I love, fighting all this darkness. I know that you're in there somewhere, my Cel, and even if you're lost you will find your way back home. I have absolute faith in you. And of course I know you'll change because of this, and that's fine, because however much you've changed and whatever you're going through I still love you and I always will. You do believe that, don't you? Please tell me you can still believe that I love you. Tell me they couldn't take that away. Please, Cel."_

_Celebrían hesitated for a long, excruciating moment, Elrond's tears rolling off her emaciated fingers._

"_I don't know," she answered at last, heart-shatteringly, "but, Elrond, I'm trying to believe it. It's so hard sometimes and that's the best I can give you. I am truly sorry."_

"_Don't be, never be sorry because not one single part of this was your fault. Your best, that you're even willing to try, is all I could ever ask and you are so, so incredibly brave for doing that. I love you now when you're lost and I will love you when you find your way home. I love you, my Cel."_

_They simply cried together for a while, Elrond kneeling before Celebrían as she sat hunched up on the edge of the bed, each with one hand on the circlet on Celebrían's lap and one hand clutching the other's. Celebrían, even after a few minutes, still seemed too overwhelmed to speak and the circlet lay between them like an unanswered question. Eventually Elrond suggested quietly,_

"_I understand why you don't feel able to wear this now. But why don't you take it with you, just in case? I hope that one day in Valinor you will again be able to see yourself as I see you now, my starlight warrior even in your darkness, and you will wear this and know that you are loved. Take it as a promise that I will find my way home to you, no matter what."_

_Celebrían seemed to be gradually withdrawing now, sheltering in one of her silences which, in her current state of mind, could very well last for days. But she picked up the circlet with spindly, shaking fingers, wrapped it in velvet with the utmost care, and stowed it safely in her trunk._

_At that moment, lost in the torments of her mind, it was the only way that Celebrían could say _I love you too_._

_But Elrond understood, and he treasured that gesture, though incredibly bittersweet, more than all the lays that had ever been sung in his honour._

* * *

_The memories blurred and reformed into an image of a crowd of shadowy people, waiting on the crystal sands of a Valinorean shore. Most of the people were indistinguishable, but one figure stood out with crystal clarity. Tall and lithe, but with an unmistakeable air of coiled strength. Silver hair tumbling in gleaming torrents past her waist. Sharp, intelligent grey eyes. Robed in a gorgeous navy gown embroidered with stars at the collar and cuffs, forming a stunning contrast with her hair and eyes. Around her head, a simple circlet of gold and silver. And at its centre, a mithril star forged around a moonstone. She gave a smile full of infectious joy, though her eyes filled with tears, brought an elegant hand to her lips, touched it to the circlet at her brow, and raised her hand in salutation._

_Then the image faded away._

* * *

Galadriel swayed back the tiniest fraction as Elrond showed her the images in his mind. Even so, it was the closest Elrond had ever seen his mother-in-law to flinching, and that was incredibly disconcerting.

"Can you tell its nature, my lady? Do you know if the vision is a true one?"

"My Sight too is clouded," she replied, shaking her head regretfully. "And entering the future blindly vexes me greatly. But we must be patient only a little longer."

They both turned back to watch the mass of the crowd resolving into individual, but not yet identifiable, figures. It was impossible to say who first reached out, but their hands found each other, and they held on as together they scanned the crowd for a daughter and wife, long before it was likely that they would be able to spot her.

The faint strains of a distant melody drifted to their ears, and everyone on deck quieted to listen. The sound of many interwoven voices enveloped the approaching ship, and as they began to make out the words, they could hear that the people waiting on shore were singing their returning brethren home. It was a wonderful emotive song, about welcome and a long road ending, and the voices blended almost seamlessly in a rich tapestry of sound.

It would be an incredible feat, if they could manage it. To pick out one voice from over one hundred, at that distance; it should have been impossible. But for both Elrond and Galadriel, this was the one voice that they would hear calling them even if all the hordes of Mordor were clamouring over it. So they listened with gratitude in their hearts for all who were singing them home, even whilst they searched the music for the one welcome they craved most of all.

Their clasped hands tightened and they whirled round to face each other. At the exact same moment, each had heard the silver thread which they cherished most weaving its way through the complex harmonies. They communicated mentally, wide-eyed, as they would not have spoken over the sound they were currently hearing for all of Arda.

_Can you hear her?_ Both of them, simultaneously.

_Her voice…_Galadriel, in awe, sending Elrond an unfinished thought for the first time he could remember.

_There is laughter in it!_ Elrond, hope exploding in his heart as the voice which had been missing from a too-silent Imladris surrounded him in its sweet caress.

They turned back to scanning the crowd with fevered excitement as the level of detail increased and individual features became visible, chasing that silver thread back to its source with all the concentration of both their formidable minds.

Elrond's gaze alighted on a figure in navy.

Silver hair flowing in wild abandon outshone the jewelled city behind her.

And there was something reflecting light in the middle of her brow.

"CEL!" Elrond roared, all the power of his herald's voice behind that one syllable. He wrenched his hand free from Galadriel's to grasp the railing in a crushing grip, half hanging off the side as he leaned out towards the woman who had just blossomed into the realisation of all his wildest dreams.

Behind him, Galadriel drew in her breath sharply and grasped his shoulder, leaning out herself to follow the direction of Elrond's gaze. Murmurs sprang up among the other passengers, but neither of the former Ringbearers paid them any heed.

They were captivated by the sight of the navy-robed figure kissing her long fingers, touching them to the star at her brow, and raising her hand to greet her returning family, and by the sound of the silver thread of her voice quivering a little in emotion as she did so.

There she was, his Cel, his starlight warrior, shining and brilliant as she was always meant to be, in all the glory that the orcs tried and failed to steal from her.

And Elrond had waited long enough.

In one fluid motion, he shrugged out of his outer robe, leaving it clutched in the hand of a startled Galadriel, vaulted over the side of the ship and dived into the sea. He surfaced, his face drenched in salt water- and not all of it from the sea- and set his sights on where his wife had thrown her head back in laughter. _At him_, he realised with giddy delight. Cel was laughing at him, and the world was right again- or at least it would be, as soon as she was in his arms once more. He kicked out with powerful legs, honed long ago by brutal fighting on the plains of Mordor, and put all of their energy into the far sweeter task of taking him home.

Home, to her.

The other passengers hurried to the source of the commotion, shouting and pointing as a great blur of arms and legs and splashing water sped away through the waves towards the shore. Galadriel, experiencing the most overwhelming and unanticipated joy of her long and far-sighted life, simply stood there like a figurehead at the prow of the ship, tears streaming down her face, one hand clutching Elrond's discarded robe as if for comfort and the other trembling, raised in salutation to her daughter.

"Well, will you look at that?" Bilbo enthused from his new perch on Lindir's shoulders, wiping the corners of his eyes with his handkerchief. "I had no idea the fellow could move that fast!"

"He hasn't. For several centuries," an overawed Lindir replied, watching his usually reserved and dignified lord easily overtake the ship and tear up the distance to shore as though a great sea serpent was on his tail.

"You couldn't tell, the way he's moving! Go on son, she's waiting!" Bilbo crowed, and his shout of encouragement was joined by many others from the assembled passengers.

"No she's not," Frodo countered, surprising Bilbo. "Look back to shore."

Bilbo did, and when he saw what Frodo had, he laughed in delight and said,

"O, it's like one of those old tales!"

* * *

Elrond broke his rhythm for a moment to check his course and look back to where his wife had been waiting. But when he did, he almost floundered.

She wasn't there. And her voice had dropped out of the song.

Had it all been an illusion? Had he seen simply what he wanted to see? Was she really lying in a bower somewhere, still emaciated and distraught and lost in the silent prison of her mind?

"ELROND!"

No she was not, and his wife, his _irrepressible, miraculous, healed_ wife was really there.

And she was swimming out to meet him.

Swimming in quick, neat breaststroke so she could keep her head above water, and more precisely, to protect the circlet with the mithril-and-moonstone star which proudly adorned her brow.

"Cel, I'm coming!" he shouted back, plunged his head back into the water and doubled his pace.

* * *

"Celebrían never was one to stand around and wait," Gandalf commented fondly as he watched the gleaming head of silver make its determined way towards the oncoming force of nature that was Elrond unleashed.

"There ought to be a lay about this," Bilbo announced. "You hear that, Lindir! Start taking notes!"

"I would, but my hands appear to be occupied in holding a hobbit on my shoulders," Lindir retaliated.

"Never mind that, I'll cling on! Get composing, young man!"

"As you wish, sir. Elrond Silverfin and the Lady of Starlight, perhaps?"

"Elrond Silverfin and the Lady of Starlight," Gandalf mused, "They'll both find those titles extremely annoying."

"If they scold me about it together as they used to," Lindir replied a little wistfully, "then it will be worth it."

* * *

Celebrían paused at the furthest point she could reach and still touch the seafloor, wanting a foundation so she could properly embrace her husband as they reunited, although it grated on her to stop moving even for a second.

But she wasn't waiting for long. Soon enough, she was laughing and crying in equal measure as her husband's frenzied aquatic approach splashed her in sea spray. She reached out to him with both hands, letting the outward pull of the tide tug her forwards until her entire body was extended like a piece of kelp drawn out by the sea. Then he looked up, stretched out against the current towards her, and their fingertips touched.

In Valinor, they had felt it when the Ring was destroyed. It was like the whole world shimmered for a moment, and something fundamentally shifted. At long, long last, feeling the sparks from her love's touch light her up completely from the inside, Celebrían felt a similar sensation: like the world had suddenly been made new.

He plunged towards her with the onrushing tide, his hands clasped hers, his feet thudded down and then she was swept off hers and into his arms, and they were kissing with all the desperation of parched desert wanderers who had finally found their oasis.

They were obliged to stop, far too soon, as both were out of breath from the swim and the exhilaration. She pulled him into an embrace, sobbing his name against his chest and feeling the droplets of seawater and tears rain down from his face onto her head.

"My Cel," he breathed, and tenderly kissed the top of her head. "My Cel, my Cel, my Cel," he whispered into her hair, repeating it like a mantra as they swayed together with the tide. And as much as she loved embracing him, Celebrían couldn't stand not seeing his face any longer, so she looked up and beamed at him, and confirmed assertively,

"Yes I am." She took his face in both of her hands, thumbing away the new tears of joy that coursed down his face at hearing her say that.

"You came home to me," she said in wonder. She had never doubted this, but still she needed to say it, proclaim that her wait was finally over. His face creased into that singular expression of pure overwhelming elation and heart she so adored, like he was feeling so much that there was a river of words being held back by his willpower alone.

He reverently brushed a briny strand of hair off her cheek and said with equal wonder, and a fragile voice,

"So did you."

* * *

The reuniting couple had eyes only for each other, so they were entirely oblivious to the hundreds of elves and two hobbits applauding their kiss wildly, from both the ship and the shore. Galadriel beamed down at them beatifically from the prow, revelling in her daughter's happiness, completely ignoring the commotion behind her. More passengers had seen loved ones awaiting them by this point, and a joyful chaos of names and welcomes replaced the earlier ordered harmony of the song.

Frodo had applauded with all the rest when husband and wife reached each other at last, but he had gone very quiet after that, and seemed fixated on Celebrían. He responded to Gandalf's inquiring glance by stating softly,

"She was tortured by orcs, wasn't she?"

Gandalf clasped Frodo's four-fingered hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles in an attempt to comfort him in his dark reflections.

"Yes, she was. That was one dark chapter in a long and marvellous life."

"She looks happy."

They watched as Celebrían practically threw herself at Elrond and nearly knocked him over, and he twirled her around as her laughter floated up to the ship. Gandalf squeezed Frodo's hand.

"Well, Frodo, the story continues, and I think she is."

* * *

"Elrond, my love, I could stand here in the sea and kiss you quite happily for the rest of eternity, but if we don't move now, we're going to be run over by the ship."

They looked up to the steadily approaching vessel and Celebrían blew a kiss up to Galadriel, who returned the gesture. Elrond grinned wickedly, feeling the youthful exuberance that Celebrían brought out in him waking up after five centuries lying dormant.

"Race you back to Valinor then!" he cried as he set off, using breaststroke so Celebrían couldn't use the circlet as an excuse.

"Challenge accepted, dear husband," she shouted, deliberately sending a huge wave of water his way.

So, enjoying one precious moment of bliss before the serious conversations that awaited them, splashing each other and laughing like elflings, Elrond and Celebrían raced each other back to the pier, and collapsed onto it, drenched and elated as they called it a draw.

* * *

As the ship slid nearer to its mooring point beside the pier, Galadriel turned back around, and her face took on a shrewd and calculating expression.

"Mithrandir," she said, a smile that could only be described as mischievous playing around her lips- which on Galadriel's face, was frankly terrifying, "could you pass me that rope?"

Gandalf looked to the rope she had indicated, then back to her, and his lips formed a comical 'o' as though he were blowing a smoke ring. Galadriel raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'what are you standing around for, then?' This had the inevitable effect of spurring Gandalf into action, and he turned to Frodo, still in his arms, and suggested,

"Shall we do the honours, Frodo?"

The poor hobbit still looked a little confused at Galadriel's request, but together with Gandalf he grasped the rope and swung it towards Galadriel. Her entire face lit up with a brilliant smile, she abandoned Elrond's robe to puddle on the deck, grasped the rope with both hands and leapt forwards off the prow of the ship. There was a collective gasp from everyone not occupied in shouting to people waiting ashore, and the crowd on deck watched, astonished, as she sailed through the air and released the rope with perfect timing to land on the pier mid-stride, already running at full pelt towards her astonished daughter.

Celebrían however, as she had proved by her reaction to Elrond's earlier stunt, was not one to waste time simply standing amazed. With a joyful cry of "Ammë!" she took off and began closing the distance between them. Both taking huge ground-eating strides, it took almost no time at all before Celebrían was enfolded in her mother's arms, hair of silver and gold intertwining as it fell around their shoulders.

"I remembered who I am, Ammë," Celebrían told her in breathless excitement once she had pulled away from the hug. "I found my courage again."

"I can see that, iel-nín," Galadriel affirmed. "You never lost it, but when I last saw you, it was a spring buried deep within you. Now, you are simply overflowing with it, and it fills all my weary heart's empty spaces to see you thus again. I am so, so proud of you, my life and my heart's delight."

Matching tears of relief and joy coursed down their faces as mother and daughter stood locked in an embrace, until Celebrian wiped hers away to stare at her mother in awe and stutter,

"Ammë, you…with the rope… that was amazing!"

"Well," Galadriel remarked, straightening up and sending a challenging smirk to Elrond. "I couldn't very well let myself be outdone by my son-in-law, now, could I?"

Celebrían looked from her mother to her husband in a mixture of amusement and amazement.

"You're both completely ridiculous, and _ai_, how I have missed you!" she exclaimed as she pulled them both towards her so that all three were embracing.

"I hope you can see now how much we have missed you too," Elrond replied.

"Oh, believe me," Celebrían replied, trying to sound teasing although her voice was a little choked, "you have made that extremely clear."

* * *

It was a perfect, shining moment that the three would treasure until the breaking of the world, but like all such moments, it had to flow into the bittersweet river of continuing time eventually.

The moment ended as the gangplank finally descended, and Celebrían looked over Galadriel's shoulder at the passengers. Looking for someone.

Elrond and Galadriel only had to look into each other's eyes to see their own grief and heartbreak mirrored there.

Celebrían looked back to Elrond, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat, readying himself to deliver the blow that would overshadow their beautiful reunion. But before he could speak, she did, proving to Elrond that he was right in thinking her the braver out of the two of them.

"They're not with you," she said, and it was a statement, not a question. "You wouldn't have left them alone on the ship."

Elrond shook his head, trusting his eyes to pour his guilt and sorrow into their mental bond, feeling at that moment completely incapable of articulating it.

"Will they come?" Celebrían asked urgently, taking both of Elrond's hands, amazing her husband in the way that she reached out to reassure him, even as she faced the potential loss of her children.

"Celeborn will, in time. Elladan and Elrohir are yet to decide, but Glorfindel has stayed to mentor them, and he will see that they arrive safely if they chose the path of the Eldar."

Celebrían's face crumpled as she heard what Elrond didn't say. "And Arwen?"

"Has made the choice of Lúthien. Cel, I am so sorry, I tried everything, I yearned to see you reunited but I could not-"

"Is she happy?" Celebrían cut across his self-recrimination with the question that mattered most of all.

Elrond nodded, his face once again strained as though it was taking all his effort just to hold back the torrent of all he was feeling. "She is happy, and so much more. She is radiant with it, and very much in love, and on her wedding day-"

He paused to gather himself as Celebrían gripped his hands tightly, grounding both of them through the storm of this revelation.

"On her wedding day, she reminded me very much of you."

"If she is as happy as I was then, then I am content." The anguish competing with the joy in her eyes and the tears flooding her face belied that statement, and she added, "Or at least, in time, I will learn to be. Is he a good man?"

"The very best," Elrond replied earnestly, another pang striking his heart as he remembered the son he had left behind along with his daughter. "And I required that he prove his commitment to her and that she reflect on her decision over many years, and both proved utterly steadfast. It would have been a great evil to stand in their way, though I longed to, at times; at least until I truly saw the quality of their love and our daughter's happiness."

"What did you make him do?"

"Reunite Gondor and Arnor and become King."

Celebrían let out a choked laugh that became a sob. "Of course you did."

"Too much?" Elrond replied weakly, trying to follow her lead and get through this excruciating moment in whatever way they could.

"For our Arwen? That's not possible."

"Of course it isn't. But she chose well, and she knows her own mind."

"Ridiculous family trait," Celebrían choked out, and Galadriel gasped a little startled laugh amid her own tears as she squeezed her daughter's shoulder.

"With us for parents, I suppose it was inevitable she'd inherit it," Elrond answered with a very forced smile, and then neither of them could find the words to drag the conversation out further, and they fell against each other and held each other through the loss.

Galadriel retained enough presence of mind to guide the distraught couple off the pier and to a secluded spot out of the way of the passengers now streaming off the ship, running to their loved ones in their own emotional reunions. She stayed there just out of their way, guarding them like a fierce mother bear, fixing anyone foolish enough to display an intention of disturbing them with such a look that they changed course immediately. Frodo and Bilbo attracted much attention from the Valinor elves, Frodo looking decidedly uncomfortable with all the bowing and praise, Bilbo on the other hand soaking it up even whilst saying, "ah, well, I simply prepared the way for my nephew here, all my clever lad's doing really, though I'm still a little hazy on what exactly he did…"

Frodo's face fell as he spotted Elrond and Celebrían's distress, and he asked Gandalf worriedly, "he told her about Arwen?"

Gandalf was sombre as he glanced over to them. "He did. But Frodo, they have each other now." Frodo nodded, his gaze lingering on Celebrían as if her very presence gave him strength, turned around, took a deep breath and walked into the healing light of Valinor.

* * *

They grieved the loss of Arwen and the awful uncertainty of their future concerning their sons until they had both cried themselves out and given the awful revelation time to settle between them.

At last Celebrían pulled away and looked Elrond over, taking in the face which seemed tighter with the weight of responsibility than when she had seen it last, the shoulders which seemed set mechanically straight as though awaiting the next obstacle to be faced, the heavy tiredness which had descended again after the youthful joy of their reunion.

"And you?" she asked, her eyes full of scrutiny, and Elrond knew that dissembling would be futile.

"I missed you, Cel," he sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"I can see that," she observed. "But no more. We will fight the darkness side by side, yours and mine, and our light will endure."

He smiled gently and kissed the moonstone on her brow. "My starlight warrior," he said, and though his voice was confident there was a question in his eyes which Celebrían did not like to see at all, especially since she recalled her ordeal and its aftermath enough to know which conversation which put it there. However, she also knew how to answer it, once and for all.

She pulled him forward and kissed him again, long and slow and passionate and leaving him in no doubt of exactly how she felt about him. When she drew back she looked steadily into those stormy grey eyes she'd so missed losing herself in, opened her mental connection to let him see exactly how sincere she was about her next word, and said,

"Forever."


End file.
